Familiarity
by erika red
Summary: Will an argument push Goren and Eames apart, or bring them closer together? Rated M for ch. 6
1. Arguments

"You chew them up and spit them out, you turn them into projects, Bobby. No one wants to be a project."

"I do not turn them into projects."

"Look, you can't be in a relationship with someone you don't respect, it doesn't work. Ever. And by knowing all the cards in their hand, as well as every move they're going to make... you suck all the fun out of romance." Alex sighed, and turned off the ignition. Her cellphone was on speaker.

"I _take all the fun out of romance? _I'll have you know I've had no complaints in the romantic department, Eames."

"That's.. not what I'm talking about, _Goren_. The women you date can't keep up with you, and that's not fair. To them. Or you, really." She pulled the phone out of its clip, and took it off speaker, pressing it to her ear.

"I date intelligent women, Alex."

"Be that as it may, they aren't on your level. Few people are. Trying to deny it won't help anyone. Not just during an investigation, but in every aspect of your life."

"I'm not an elitist."

"No, you're an equal opportunities provider. Maybe you just get off on proving to yourself time and again that you _are _smarter, and that's why you date women who can't possibly keep up, despite their other strengths." She sat back in her seat. There was silence for a moment.

"Just because you keep pace with me doesn't mean other women can't."

"That was left fucking field, Goren. And that's _not _what I said."

"But it's what you were thinking."

"I'm thinking that I would like to see you happy. With someone you can actually talk to instead of just fuck."

"Someone like you."

"You're wasting your time on them. And don't try to analyze me, _Bobby_. I, unlike the whores you take home with you, demand respect. Just accept that I think, as your friend and partner, that you can do much better, and deserve much better."

"Thanks, mom."

"Fuck you." She snapped her phone shut and ignored its almost immediate ringing. She stuck it in her purse and got out of the car.


	2. Bitter Coffee

"Goren," Deakins shouted as he walked over to them, "When you go out to get coffee, mind getting me a cup?"

"Not at all."

"Thanks."

Goren sat flicking his pen against the pile of paperwork he was doing. He was staring intensely at it without raising his eyes. Deakins looked over at Alex to receive the look she normally gave him that said, "He's in one of his moods, he'll get over it." Instead, she sat hunched over her own paper work, her brow furrowed in what appeared to be barely-contained fury.

"Guys... I know paperwork is a drag, but it's a necessary evil." He looked from one to the other. Alex pushed her chair back and looked up at him. Her expression was suddenly one of weariness.

"Mind if I cut out a little early tonight? I've got a headache I can't seem to get rid of." Her eyes flicked almost imperceptibly at Goren when she said 'headache.' Her eyes had met his own icy gaze.

"No problem, if you can finish a couple more case files, you can leave this afternoon." His look was one of concern. Even with an eye patch, Deakins caught the quick glance Alex had given Bobby.

"I'd better go get that coffee." Bobby stood abruptly, dropping his pen onto the desk. After he'd gone, Deakins leaned down and looked at Alex.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" He said, his voice very low.

"Don't ask." She shook her head.

"Eames, I'm not asking as a concerned friend, I'm asking as a Captain of this squad. You two are acting like a childish married couple. The next thing I know, you'll be asking me to pass a note to him because you won't deign to speak to one another directly."

"Captain.." Alex looked up at him,

"Alex, I'm serious. I don't know what's going on with you two, but it better be kosher by tomorrow or I'm calling a meeting. You're partners. Whatever lover's quarrel you have, don't bring it into this building."

"_Lover's -- _" She sputtered, seeing red for a moment, but regained her composure quickly. "Captain, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about."

He nodded, and stood up straight.

"That's what I like to hear, detective."

Carver stood waiting in Deakins' office. He patiently watched through the glass as the Captain spoke to his two star detectives. When he returned, he smiled smugly.

"What was that all about?"

"Carver, have you ever heard the phrase ... "familiarity breeds contempt and children?"

"Captain... I'm going to pretend I _didn't _hear that."

Deakins laughed.


	3. Broken Ice

Despite Alex's best efforts at finishing a good chunk of the paperwork she'd been digging away at, she couldn't concentrate. Goren wasn't helping. The tension between them was palpable. Deakins had his coat on when he walked over to them for the second time that day.

"All right, pack it up. Go get a drink or something. I want whatever is going on between you two resolved by tomorrow morning. It's Thursday. The pub down the street has five dollar pitchers tonight, and the bartender has been known to give pretty detectives free shots," He glanced at Eames.

"Thanks, Captain, but like I said earlier --"

"If your headache hasn't dissolved once you've gotten to the bottom of your first pitcher, detective Eames, you have my permission to go home."

"Are you saying you're _ordering _us to go and get drunk?" Goren cocked his head at Deakins.

"If you want to interpret it that way, go right ahead. Now," Deakins glanced at his watch. "I've got a Lifetime marathon to watch with my wife, so do me one favor," He eyed the two detectives with a shadow of a smile on his face. "Do a couple shots for me?"

"Okay, Captain." Eames sighed.

Despite their animosity, Goren held the door for Eames. He didn't rest his warm hand on the small of her back, though, and it was the small gestures that they both missed. _If he did touch me, though, I'd be obligated to knee him _reflected Eames.

The bar was warm, and the jukebox was blasting Jingle Bell Rock.

"'Tis the season," Muttered Eames.

"Split a pitcher? Or are you going to proposition him for a shot?"

"Shut up. Get a pitcher. I don't care what. I'll get a table."

When he returned with two frozen glasses and a pitcher full of amber liquid, Eames was sitting deep in a booth. The booths were designed to give patrons as much privacy as possible, and they were designed well. Despite the blaring music, the booths were relatively quiet. The backs extended all the way to the ceiling, and a small candle lit each table.

"This is some place. How did Deakins know about it and not us?" Goren mused.

"Do you want to talk, or do you want to drink?"

"Do you want to lose the bitchy attitude? It's one thing to get into an argument, quite another to ignore that person when they say things you don't want to hear." He poured both glasses, and passed her one, which she immediately began drinking. Her eyes flashed at him over the rim. She put it down and licked her lips.

"I have no interest in having you bully me into saying something that isn't true to make you feel better about yourself." She took another long pull from her glass. There was a pause.

"Like what?" He was looking intrigued, which pissed her off. She knew that expression, and she didn't like being on the receiving end of it.

"Insinuations that I want to be in a relationship with you that isn't platonic."

"Do you?" She was surprised by the point blank question.

"Do _you_?" Her eyebrow raised, and she ignored her beer.

"I asked you first, but yes, the thought has crossed my mind."

"We're partners, Bobby." She melted little dots into the frost on the side of her glass with her finger. He nodded slowly.

"Yeah. We are. You didn't answer my question."

"The best I can do is this: you're proving my point from last night. You're going about this in a way I don't like at all."

"I'm 'sucking the fun out of romance'?" He smirked slightly.

"You could say that, yeah." She looked up at him, no hint of a smile. "I don't know why you can't relate to me, instead of putting me out to dry on this subject. Maybe you're afraid I'll reject you. So if I do, you're safe. I dunno. But it's worse than being a suspect under your scrutiny. You want me to be an ally, but until I pledge myself, I'm an enemy. I can't deal with that. I don't want to be in a relationship where my partner can't respect me enough to lay his cards on the table and play an honest game. Instead, he keeps trying to peek over my shoulder and see my hand, without showing his. No fair, Bobby."

"I love your analogies." He topped off her glass and his own, and sighed. "You're right, you know."

"Figured." She traced the knots in the thick wood table between them.

"I'm not quite drunk enough for where this conversation is headed." He slid out of the booth and stood up. "Shots?"

"Tequila."

"You're on." He smiled and made his way to the bar.

"_Men." _Alex said under her breath.


	4. Shot for shot

"You know, the first time I saw you, I didn't think you were a cop."

"What'd you think I was?" Alex pulled the lime away from her lips.

"I dunno.. you weren't upset, or nervous. Just so ... put together. Maybe an attorney. But then you smiled."

"That's an interesting point. I never see Carver smile... until after we've given him the final, damning piece of the puzzle." She laughed, and he did too.

After the third round, a waitress came by to take away the empty shot glasses, and give them more lime wedges and shots. Bobby leaned back and grinned.

"What about you." He gestured towards her. "What was your first impression."

"Hmm.." Alex pretended to pause for thought. "I don't remember." Her blue eyes raised to meet his, and she smiled.

"Oh no, don't think you can try and smile your way out of this,"

"Who's trying?"

"What was your first impression?"

"I ... didn't see you walk in like you saw me. I saw you talking. You had your back turned, and you were explaining something. You were fucking _tall_," They both started laughing as she fingered another shot. "Then you turned around. I knew you were a cop. You had that damn notebook in your hand, and a desk. The guy you were talking to saw me, and you saw him look, so you turned around."

"Yeah. He got distracted by you."

"Well, I didn't know a thing about you before that, except you were some hot shot detective. I figured the Detective Goren I'd heard of was some.."

"Some... what?"

"I dunno. Not _you. _You turned and fixed me with that look you have sometimes. It was a combination. You were analyzing, but there was something else. I dunno." She shrugged.

"Come _on..._ you need another shot." He slid one in front of him as well.

"In my own time,"

"You drink or you tell." He raised his glass, and smiled at her. She grudgingly raised hers. "On three." By three, he had tossed his back, but hers had returned to the table.

"I can't just yet."

"Then you tell." He licked salt from his finger, and leaned his head on his fist to gaze at her.

"What was I talking about."

"How I looked at you when we first met."

"_Oh." _She cleared her throat. "You were analyzing me... but not like you analyze witnesses and suspects. It was different. You turned, and your expression.. it was somewhere between a smile and a frown. Your eyes were smiling, like... they were soft. God, I can't talk." She downed the shot and winced.

"My eyes were soft?"

"Yeah," She looked up. His face was relaxed, but his eyes... they took her in, with something of a smile. An understated humor that she could read. "Just like that."

"Like what?"

"Your expression, just a second ago. That was exactly how it was when I met you."


	5. And one for the road

They'd agreed to let bygones be bygones. Deakins couldn't ask for a better resolution, _and _they'd gotten completely shit face on his orders. She leaned against the cold brick wall outside the bar, as they watched half-heartedly for a cab.

"What time is it?"

"What?"

"I said, 'what time is it?'" She smiled and swayed towards him. He steadied her, and grinned.

"It's time for drunk detectives to go to bed." She stood looking up at him, her drunken state allowing her closer than they would normally stand. She was literally half his size, _if _that.

"Whose?" She asked.

He turned so that she was against the wall again, and he in front of her.

"That's entirely up to you."

"Isit true ... " She began, looking at his chest.

"Is what true?"

"Mm-mm." She shook her head, looking up at him again, and smiling.

He leaned towards her, so that they were cheek to cheek. His arms trapped her between him and the wall.

"I know what cards you're holding." He whispered.

"Be careful." She whispered, sounding unnervingly sober. "I might be bluffing." Her breath was warm and moist against his neck.

He lowered his head, and kissed her neck. Her sharp intake of breath and ragged exhale barely stifled her moan. His lips were soft and his tongue hot. She clenched her teeth, but her eyes closed anyway, her back arching slightly against the wall. He pulled away, and her eyes opened slowly to reveal an expression he had never seen on her face before. It disappeared quickly, but not quickly enough.

Her breathing returned to normal, but the wetness between her legs remained. The cab ride lasted forever. His leg was pushed up against hers, and every bump made her shift a little.

"Here is fine," He said, handing the driver a bill. He slid out of the car, then opened her door and helped her out. "I'll walk you in." He said.

"Thanks." She fumbled for her keys, and he called the elevator.

She unlocked her door and looked up at him. "Wanna come in for a minute, warm up?"

"Sure." He took off his coat, and lay it over her arm chair.

"I gotta pee. Make yourself comfortable." She walked down the hall to the bathroom.

Her apartment was tiny. If he could see clearly, he'd take an interest in the piles of books she had lying around. He could see well enough that there was a bottle of rum sitting on the desk next to her stereo. He picked up, and read the label.

"You wanna glass, or are we going straight from the bottle, now?" She yawned.

"I was just admiring your taste." He smiled.

"Help yourself, seriously."

"Thanks, but .. maybe another night." He walked towards her. "Been a hell of a week."

"Yeah." The mood had changed. The tension was there again. That palpable, unnamable _thing _that had been under their skin all week. The bit of sand that had brought their partnership to a grinding halt. The argument had stemmed from it. The similarity between Bobby and their suspect. A barely grown cult leader in training. It was a joke Eames had made come to life.

"She's like one of those creepy women who'd kill for you if you asked her nice."

"Be nice, Eames," He had laughed, and handed her her coffee. "She's not _that _bad."

"She's a sweet girl, but she doesn't know when to quit. She's a little obsessive."

"Yeah, she is." He had run his hand through his hair. "I think she's just star struck. It'll wear off once she gets to know me."

Eames had fixed him with a "yeah, and I'm the Queen of Spain," look, and returned to her paperwork.

It wasn't just one girl, it was three girls who had killed for one stupid, lonely kid. Goren had profiled him, and they'd tricked him into a confession. Sort of. But it hadn't sat well with Alex. It some how cropped up in a conversation with him about his latest conquest. The relationship hadn't worked out, and instead of being a "shoulder to cry on" she'd jumped down his throat about it.

He stopped advancing on her, and looked down at her, puzzled.

"You're nervous. Why?"

"The world isn't putty in your hands, Bobby. _I _am not putty for you to mold however you like."

He looked confused for a moment. Then angry.

"You _think _I'm trying to mold you? I just want_ you._ Are you fucking kidding me? Did this case go to your head and make you psychotic? I'm only too aware I don't control the world. I just try and clean up the fucking messes in it."

He had her backed up against the wall again. Her face was flushed.

"I'm not going to be another one of your stupid projects. I won't fawn over you like some obsessive star struck groupie." She turned so the wall was no longer at her back.

"You _can't _be a project. And I'm obsessive enough for both of us. For the entire fucking squad. I don't want obsessive. Obsessive doesn't work. I don't want some shadow."

"What the hell do you want then?"


	6. Slow and steady

He pushed her against the wall, hard. His mouth was on hers, hungrily pressing and devouring her own. He kissed her throat, and she gasped, her hands finding his wide shoulders. His wide chest enveloped her, and she arched against him. In a second, he had lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. He thrust against her, and she felt his stiffness pressing into her. She moaned into his mouth and his hips thrust again. He kissed her right below her ear.

"Tell me this isn't drunken lowered inhibition that you'll regret." He whispered, his big hands pulling her ass tighter against him as he ground into her again. Her back arched again, her movement constricted by the wall.

"I'm not _that _drunk."

He pulled her away from the wall, still wrapped around him. He walked easily to her bedroom and threw her on her bed. Her shirt was the first thing he pulled off of her, pausing to admire the shape of her breasts in her bra before removing that as well. Her fingers fumbled with his belt. He pushed away her hands, and pulled it out with one smooth motion, tossing it to the floor. His pants were quickly unbuttoned as he kissed her again. His hand moved to feel the hot dampness between her legs. Her jeans prevented him from feeling much, but the pressure against the seam made her wiggle against his fingers. He unbuttoned her jeans, and pulled them off her easily. She tried to reach his pants again, but he pushed her hands away. His mouth found her nipple, she moaned, softly. Her fingers ran through his hair. He kissed her stomach, and her hip. He spread his legs beneath him, and slid her knees over his shoulders.

"Oh fuck.." She whispered, as she felt his warm breath on her.

He gently bit her inner thigh, and her hips arched up. He pulled her towards him a few inches. His tongue flicked against her, and he listened to her breathing quicken.

"Mmm.." Her hips pressed her against his mouth, and her hands found his. Her hands were engulfed in his own, until he let go of her right hand to hold her hips still.

"Fuck Bobby.. Oh fuck... oh god.. yes.." Her words were soft, breathy, and tinged with pre-orgasmic desperation. He pulled his mouth away to look up at her. She moaned and pleaded, until his fingers slipped gently inside her.

"Jesus christ.." He muttered. She gripped his fingers tightly, and bucked her hips. His finger tips gently stroked inside her, feeling her tighten and relax with each passing moment. He groaned as he felt himself twitch impatiently. She throbbed around his fingers as her orgasm began to come.

"You're so fucking wet," He gasped.

She arched her back and held it for a moment, shaking as he withdrew his fingers.


	7. Fast and hard

She reached between them to guide him, her hand grasping at his thickness. He was solid girth, but his length was nothing to laugh at. His breath was hot on her neck, his biceps taut as he held himself above her. He felt her draw him to her opening. It felt impossibly small, and wet. He strained gently against her grip, his hips barely able to hold back from plunging in.

"You're _big_." She whispered.

"So I've been told," He said to her neck.

"Mmm.." She squeaked slightly.

"I want you." He had pulled himself up so he could look at her face. She looked up, meeting his eyes, holding him against her. He pushed gently, sliding until her entrance closed around the head of his cock, gripping him exquisitely. "Jesus christ, Alex."

"Bobby..." Her breasts rose between them. "_Fuck me."_

He obliged, thrusting into her. She was wet, warm, and softer than anything. His hips found an easy rhythm, and hers bucked against him. Her legs pulled him tight against her. His pace quickened, and her moans turned into sobs of pleasure with every thrust.

As he felt himself nearing, he slowed his pace slightly, pausing every time he thrust all the way inside her.

"Oh god.. oh god..." She gasped.

"I want to feel you cum."

"I did..." She gasped. Truthfully, she'd cum around him so many times she'd lost count, grasping and pulling at his cock with every climax.

"I know baby, cum _hard._"

He sped up again, his pace giving her no time to think, or even remember her own name, just the feeling of him inside of her. Her back arched, and she moaned his name, or maybe she sobbed it. Or maybe both. He throbbed inside of her, and she felt herself dissolve into a crashing orgasm. She tightened hard around him, and felt him spasm inside of her.


End file.
